Harry Potter Demon Hunter
by DarkHarry92
Summary: Weird things always seem to find Harry. Forced to rely only on himself from a young age, Harry is a survivor. This fic is inspired by monsters from the show Supernatural but this is not a crossover fic.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter: Demon Hunter

A/N: This fic is inspired by how monsters function in the show Supernatural, but this is not a cross over fic, so you will not see Sam, Dean, Castiel etc. in this fic. I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural no matter how awesome my life would be if I did.

Prologue:

Weird things had been happening to me for as long as I can remember and beyond. It all started when I was one year old. A maniac attacked and killed my parents, leaving me an orphan. Placed with loving (yeah, right) relatives, these past ten years have been hard but I definitely can't call them boring.

When you live a life like mine there are a few things you learn. First, speed is everything. If you are outclassed by your enemies and you aren't fast enough to escape you are either dead or hurt badly enough to wish you were. I have more than enough scars to attest to that.

Second, people are very sheltered by nature, and react violently to anything outside their comfort zone. Try to present them with a new idea, or tell them their preconceived notions of reality are false, and you will either be ignored or your speed is about to be tested.

Third, there is no place for mercy. If you have your opponent by the throat, you kill or cripple them without hesitation. Anything less and it will come back to bite you in the arse.

Heh, look at me ranting. From the way I talk it's hard to believe I'm only ten, going on eleven. What can I say, it's been a hard life.

My average day begins at five fifteen every morning. I used to begin at five twenty, but my uncle and I have very different ideas of a pleasant awakening, and I am nothing if not a fast learner. Just thinking about it gives me a headache.

My first chores for the day involve cooking breakfast. Once I have eaten my one slice of toast I begin to check the garden for weeds while the whales (sorry, my _family) _inhales bacon like a drowning man gulps for air.

After that I sometimes escape to Mrs. Figg's house. The lady rambles a lot and smells like cats but she seems to mean well. After all she gives me a proper breakfast, and give me pocket money for chores the Dursleys expect for free. Not that they know this of course. If they did they would demand that I hand the money over to them, some shite about taking me in off the streets giving me the clothes off their backs. Ha, I tell you HA!

By the time this is all down it's usually around eight thirty, meaning I'm late for school. This doesn't bother me however. My classes are easy enough, but I rarely ever try. Last time I tried my best in school, I beat Dudley's grades across the board. Let's just say that was about the same time I learned how to make a splint.

How the Dursley's get away with it, I have no idea. Mrs. Figg, nice as she is, is too batty to warrant any respect, so no one will listen. The teachers at school think I'm a liar and a cheat, yet Big D the school yard bully, is considered an angel who can do no wrong. People refuse to see what's right in front of them it seems.  
_

Today seemed like any other day to start with. Wake up just in time to avoid a beating, meager breakfast, chores, real breakfast, more chores, late to school. All in all a pretty average day. Except today Dudley and his gang decided to skip class for some good old fashioned Harry Hunting. Oh Joy.

As soon as they see me they give chase. Remember when I said speed was everything? Well it's days like today that pounded that lesson into me and I've taken it to heart. Except something is off today. There's a sharp tangy smell in the air that I can't quite put my finger on, but it seems like one I should know despite how it turns my stomach. Trying to focus on getting away rather than odd half buried memories, I noticed something else odd. I had already been chased several blocks, and Dudley's gang was starting to get winded. Except Dudley that is. Big D, who is notoriously overweight, was barreling towards me like a freight train and showing no signs of slowing.

This is royally going to hurt. Just as I feel Dudley grab the back of my shirt, I feel like I'm being squeezed through a tube. Out of breath for what seemed like an eternity the feeling finally let up. When I got up from where I had fallen, I looked around long enough to realizes three things. Dudley was nowhere in sight, my legs hurt like crazy and I was on top of the five story school building with no idea how to get down.

Damn, so much for a normal day.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter: Demon Hunter

A/N due to the scene involved some dialogue is very similar to PoA pages 9 and 12 in an effort to get this scene similar to canon. You'll know which parts.

Chapter 2:

I gingerly brushed myself off and mentally prepared for the downhill slant the rest of my day was sure to take. The fire department had to be called to get me down from the roof much to my chagrin. The awkward questions about how I got up there when the building had no roof access combined with the call to emergency services meant that my incident would likely make the local news.

My whopping Cornucopia of options now involved going home to a beating for drawing attention to myself, or stay away from the house as long as possible, which would only make Uncle Vernon even more livid. Flinching at the thought I wandered down more important mental pathways. I wondered when Dudley got so fast, why he smelled faintly of burning matches. At the thought, A sharp pain pierced my scar.

Images began to fill my vision, things I was sure I had never seen before, yet seemed so familiar. A dark haired man who looked almost identical to me held a grim expression as the solid oak door rattled in its frame after a thunderous boom. I realized this must have been the night my parents died.

"Lily, it's him! Take Harry and go, run I'll hold him off," the dark haired man exclaimed. His tone brokered no argument, yet the red haired woman holding me hesitated. Mum, I supposed. A Stern look from the dark haired man who I assume was my father sent her running up the stairs. We entered a nursery, and Mum put me in my crib then turned towards the closed door shielding me from view.

Over the next thirty seconds, the house shakes and strange words are being shouted. One phrase sounds oddly like Abracadabra, then the house is silent except for Mum quietly sobbing. She turned towards me with tear filled eyes.

"Harry, my precious baby boy, remember no matter what happens, your father and I will always love you." She gave me a light kiss on my forehead and turned back toward the door, drawing a long stick as she pivoted. The door buckled with a crack and heavy footsteps entered the room

"Not Harry," my Mum begged this stranger, "Not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside you silly girl, stand aside now!" A cold voice. Something in that voice just didn't sound natural.

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead. Not Harry! Please...have mercy...have mercy!" Mum was still sobbing as she begged, but from my view she stood straight and defiant, her body language in strong in direct counter to how distraught she sounded. A chilling laugh answered her pleading.

"Avada Kedavra!" Ah, so it wasn't abracadabra after all. There was a rushing sound, a flash of green and Mum hit the floor. Heavy footsteps drew closer and the stranger peered into my crib. A tall man, with aristocratic features and a thick mane of dark hair, some might consider this man handsome, but lying just beneath the surface was an aura of darkness. Something about this man was just...wrong. The overwhelming smell of burnt matches embodied the sheer wrongness of this man, and my infant self began to cry.

"Avada Kedavra!" As the man pointed his odd looking stick at me, uttering those hateful words I could have sworn I saw his eyes change from dark brown to pure white. I was then overtaken by that green light and a rushing sound. Everything went black.

I awoke in what appeared to be a hospital room. It smelled strongly of antiseptics and was almost blindingly white. I cursed the Dursleys with my first coherent thought. How dare they lie to me about how my parents died! Those visions were far too vivid to have been a product of whatever caused that pain in my scar.

My cursing was interrupted but a nurse entering the room. A pretty enough woman, her face was marred with worry. I glanced around wondering how she was concerned over and remembered I was the only other person in the room.

"Mr. Potter," She glanced at the clipboard in her her hands and sat down in the chair next to my bed, " How much do you remember about why you are here?"

"Let's see," I said running over the last twenty fours hours in my head, "I was running from my cousin, I suddenly ended up on the roof of my school, the fire department came and got me down. Then I felt a sharp pain in my forehead. That's the last I remember." This nurse seemed nice enough but if I was going to get out of this situation intact I decided not to mention the visions.

Before the nurse could respond an older man in a lab coat entered. He wore half-moon glasses, and his light blue eyes seem to twinkle. All things considered he would have been the spitting image of a kindly old doctor if not for the fact that his snow white hair and beard reached his waist easily. He drew a spindly stick from the waistband of his slack and pointed it at the nurse. My eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Obliviate!" The nurse's eye lost focus for a moment, and she glanced up at the old man. "Don't you have other patients to see to, Nurse Roberts?"

"Of course, Doctor, I'll just be on my way." After the door closed behind her the old man, he took the seat she had vacated.

"Mr. Potter, I'm sure you have many questions. This will probably seem unbelievable, but let me begin by introducing myself. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Well that explained the odd sticks in my vision. They must be a magic wand of some sort.

"Normally you would not receive this letter until your eleventh birthday but after the events that occurred today, I believed it prudent to pay you a person visit," He glanced at the name badge on his lab coat and chuckled," a house call as it were."

" Sir if I may be honest with you, if it weren't for the things I saw today, I'd have already yelled for security to remove you. Judging by whatever you did with that wand of yours to make the nurse leave, I imagine that would have little to no effect."

"Very observant, Mr. Potter," the man's eyes began to twinkle even more. Considering all the things I'd seen today a lot was beginning to make sense, like the time I grew my hair back after my Aunt gave me an atrocious haircut.

"Sir if you don;t mind I think I may be able to get a more succinct explanation from this letter you mentioned."

"Of course, Mr. Potter." The headmaster reached into his lab coat and withdrew a letter written on some sort of old fashioned paper, with very formal looking hand writing. I read it over, my eyes narrowing where the address said 'Cupboard under the stairs.' This man was somehow complicit in my being left by the Dursleys after my parents were murdered. Even if he wasn't, the extremely specific address meant that someone on his staff was privy to my treatment on at least the basic level. I was going to have to be wary around this man.

"Things are beginning to make a bit more sense, Sir. I'm going to be plain with you. Judging by the address on my envelope, you or someone on you staff is aware of my treatment and the circumstances that led to the events of earlier this morning. Am I correct?" The older man's eyes lost their twinkle and became profoundly sad.

"Unfortunately Mr. Potter I was not made aware of your circumstances until I received word of your accidental apparition." I thought this man was withholding something from me, but what he said piqued my attention.

"Apparition, Sir?"

"Instantaneous travel from one location to another. It's advanced magic and not normally taught until your sixth year of schooling but you performed it under duress in much the same way that someone finds great strength when trying to save a loved one." Instantaneous travel. Basically teleporting, definitely going to file that tidbit away for later.

"Since you were honest with me Mr. Potter allow me to return the favor," I sincerely doubted that but allowed him to continue.

"Even getting your letter early is highly unusual, but in light of the circumstances I would like you to accompany me to Hogwarts for the remainder of the summer. I will deal with your relatives and work out your lodging for next summer. That is of course, if you choose to attend. Think it over for a moment and we shall depart."

"Of course I would like to attend, Sir. This is something I would like to learn control over." I doubted that I had much of a choice. Besides, this man was offering to teach me magic, including teleportation and mind control. He was clearly hiding something, but being removed from the Dursleys is a godsend, and you know what they say about keeping your friends close, and your enemies closer. Two birds with one stone as far as I'm concerned.

"Very well, Mr. Potter, then let us depart." He held out his hand I took it, and I got my second taste of the tight squeezing sensation that accompanied this apparition.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry Potter: Demon Hunter

A/N: Sorry it's been so long since the last update, trying to manage work and college means something falls to the wayside. I'll try to be more prompt with updates going forward. Also writing in this tense is tougher than I thought.

Another feeling of being squeezed through a tube. I don't think I will ever get totally used to that. After catching my breath I take stock of my surroundings. The village I have arrived in with the headmaster is best described as quaint. A moderate sized area, yet something about it seems off. It takes me a moment to realize there are no telephone poles. How odd.

"Welcome, young Harry to Hogsmeade village. This is the only village in Britain that is entirely populated by wizards." The headmaster was taking in the sights as well, his eyes slightly glazed, though I imagine he had to have seen this place thousands of times in the past.

"Sir," I ask, hesitant to break his trance like stare, "why are there no telephone poles here?"

"Well Harry, magic tends to interfere with more modern inventions; something in the way electricity reacts to magic, I suppose. There are people who study why this happens and try to find ways around it but I will admit I consider it something of a lost cause. We are able to do everything the muggles can do with magic alone." A frown creases Dumbledore's face.

Right, I'm filing the old man away as obstinate as well as untrustworthy. Note to self, find books about electrical-magical interactions and see what I can turn up. If everyone in the Wizarding world is this obstinate, anything I can come up with should surpass them by leaps and bounds.

"Are you alright there Harry, my boy? We have a long walk ahead of us." Dumbledore's voice brings me out of my reverie, and I can't help but feel resentment at being called boy. I keep quiet because I have to play nice for the time being. I walk quietly along with the headmaster, simply following his lead until we break past the trees surrounding the village. There is only one word to describe how I feel at the sight before me. Home.

Fast forward about five hours. I still don't have a feel for this place. I thought it looked big when I first saw it but I was still surprised upon entering through the great double doors. Once we were inside Dumbledore took his leave but not before arranging for me to get settled.

"Tippy," he called out. A small creature came into existence before us with a pop. About the height of three year old, the creature had mottled light green skin, large floppy ears that ended in a point and protuberant eyes that remind me vaguely of tennis balls.

"How can I be helping yous, Master Dumblydoor?" The creature's voice is high but not grating, though its grammar is atrocious.

"Yes. Tippy please make sure young Harry gets settled. I have some urgent business to attend to. Harry, why don't you go visit the library? I'm sure you'd like to know a bit more about magic before classes start. Tomorrow I will arrange for your school shopping to be taken care of. Now I must be on my way."

Well, the old man now registers as obstinate, untrustworthy and now rather flighty as well. I never thought that combination was possible. Might as well check out the library.

"Tippy can you show me the way to the library please?" I still don't know what to make of this creature.

"Of courses, Master Harry. This way please." Tippy grabs my hand suddenly and I flinch. Damn those Dursley's.

"Tippy, I hope this isn't rude, but what exactly are you?" Tippy looks puzzled at my question for a moment then his eyes light up. At least I think it's a him.

"Oh, I dids not know Master Harry is a muggle born. Tippy is a house elf. We serve wizards however they wish, but we are loyal to only one family at a time." This development is intriguing but I have to resist digging further for now as we have arrived at the library.

"Here we are Master Harry. If yous be needing anything just call for Tippy." Before I can ask how he…she…it will hear me, Tippy is gone with a pop. The expansive library lies before me, its numerous stacks of books highlighting just how little I know about the world I've been thrown into. Reasoning that if something like a house elf can exist, I realize there are probably many more odd creatures out in the world somewhere. I figure it would be prudent to start learning more about them, so as not to be caught off guard. Wandering the stacks I find many different books about magical creatures, but glancing at their titles leads me to believe they have more to do with cultural myths than actual facts. I pick up the first book, _Ghosts: A Treatise on the Afterlife and Assorted Religions._

_Ghosts. Many people wonder how they come to be. They are the echoes of our ancestors, of those who have died in ages past, yet they are much more and much less than that all at once. It is said that when a person dies they are given a choice, pass onto to whatever is beyond the Veil of Death or remain amongst the living, halfway between this world and the next. Those that chose to remain become ghosts. _

_Transparent, with the consistency of a nebulous cloud they can pass through any object. Many cultures have means of helping their loved ones pass from this state into the next world. Some remain due to unfinished business, and helping them fulfill it helps them move on. Other cultures have tried to devise more forceful means but have failed in finding anything permanent. They did however find ways of temporarily incapacitating a spirit. Salt, long a symbol of purity the world over, has been found to have a very real effect on ghosts where spells fail. _

_In Scotland salt is added to a batch of mash to keep witches away (a falsehood as many wizards and witches are overly fond of salt on their bangers and mash). In Christian cultures, salt is used as a means of warding off evil, either by wearing it as an amulet or pouring a line of salt across windows and doors. This trend varies by country and culture but it is a trend none the less, one that may have a basis in reality. Researchers found that ghosts cannot cross a line of salt, no matter how much they desire to. This has been used effectively as a way to trap malevolent spirits until they give up and disperse._

This could be interesting. I wonder if there are any ghosts I can test this on.

"Tippy!" pop. Suddenly the goggle eyed creature is standing before me.

"Tippy I was wondering if there was any way I can get some salt." I doubted the creature would comply with such an odd request, but two pops later and there I was holding a cylindrical container of salt. I should ask if there are any ghosts around. Right as I open my mouth to speak I am suddenly drenched. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Floating above me is a transparent figure in an ill fitted polka dotted suit. A cruel grin stretches his face into an odd shape that simply couldn't be possible if he were living.

"Oh, never had ickle firsties here so early! This summer with actually be fun for Peevesie! Oh, what fun, what fun," the figure cackled manically. Well I did want to try this out. While this _Peevesie_ was dancing I jig I discreetly poured some salt into my left hand and brought it behind my back.

"Oh Peevesie was it? I was just reading about ghosts and I had no idea they could interact with physical objects. I would love to speak with you more, since this book is obviously incomplete." A bald faced lie but definitely worth it. The spook took the bait and swooped down peering at my face closely, never losing his manic grin.

"Peeves is my name, and pranks are my game. It gets so dreadfully boring around here, but I am not your average ghost. I'm a poltergeist you see. You aren't mad about the water?" Peeves never dropped the grin but I can see the glint of suspicion forming in his eyes, so I decide to lay it on thick.

"Nah, it's all in good fun. Since you can easily lift water balloons, how about a handshake for a prank well played?" Peeves eyes me for a moment then grabs my outstretched hand. As I suspected he has to become partially solid to interact with the world allowing me to grasp his hand, holding him in place just long enough to toss the salt at his face. Peeves howled loudly and I could feel his semi solid hand slip through my fingers like a cold breeze. Peeves is gone from sight, and I am surrounded by damp books coated in a light layer of salt. A bird like shadow descends over me and I spin around coming face to face with hard faced woman I can only assume is the librarian. Keep in mind, I've been beaten since I was only enough to work the stove, for things as simple as speaking out of turn, yet this woman sends a chill down my spine like no other.

"Mr. Potter, I presume? The headmaster may have brought you here early, but that does not make you exempt from any other rules. Get out of my library this instant! I do not want to see you in here again until the start of the school year. Do I make myself clear?" The woman's voice reaches decibels I never thought possible.

"Crystal. Ma'am." I fake a crestfallen look as I trudge out of the library but inwardly I am thrilled. I definitely did not expect that to happen. I am so excited that it takes me a few moments to notice Tippy quietly following me.

"Tippy, can you show me where I can get cleaned up?"

"Yes Master Harry. Rights this way. Headmaster Dumblydoor has arranged for you to stay in Gryffindor tower." There is probably some significance to that, but right now I just need to get changed. All in all my life hasn't improved much over the past day or so, but it sure has become more interesting.

A/N Sorry about the pacing of these first few chapters guys, I'm going to be setting up Harry's knowledge base, and doing the school shopping over the next chapter or two then things will begin to move quite a bit quicker.


End file.
